


Nawlins

by wifidelis



Series: Radio and Nawlins [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Accents, Alastor is Also Drunk, Fluff and Humor, Husk deals with his bullshit, M/M, Post-injury, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), but it's cute dammit, might be a little ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wifidelis/pseuds/wifidelis
Summary: Part 2 ofRadio Tried to Kill the Video Star. Husker deals with the aftermath of Alastor's injuries, but it's more light hearted than one would expect.Namely because Alastor is drunk off his ass and surprisingly has a New Orlean's accent.Husk abuses his privilege of hearing it.
Relationships: Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Radio and Nawlins [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571806
Comments: 57
Kudos: 535





	Nawlins

**Author's Note:**

> This is the part 2 with a fuckton of fluff! I apologize if Al is OOC, but. He is drunk and tired. I also didn't proof read this because A) it's finals week and B) this was my break from economics.
> 
> Enjoy the friend-ship that is Husker and Alastor.

_ Goddammit, he was too fond of this little bastard. _

Husker was reconsidering that fondness when he woke up at precisely 7am with Alastor and all his fucking noise roaring to life in a cacophony that made Husk want to slam the bottle of brandy over Alastor’s head. But, instead of giving the Radio Demon a concussion to go with his new scars, Husk peeled open one eye to see Alastor leering over him with radio dial eyes, looking more than pissed off.

Husk did not care. He rolled over, pulled up his blanket, and yawned.

“You brought yourself here, jackass.”

There was a sharp cut in noise as Alastor deflated, a quiet snip of his mouth opening and closing as teeth ground together following that lack of energy. Alastor seemed confused to say the least… at least to the point where he wasn’t talking right now.

And then Husk heard a whimper.

Husk glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raising when he saw red starting to seep through Alastor’s bandages. He was moving almost immediately, hauling out a trunk that contained enough first aid gear to put an army hospital to shame, grabbing a towel and tossing it over Alastor’s lap, and suturing a new needle. Husk ripped through the now bloody bandages, groaning when he saw the ripped stitches.

“You didn’t even fucking  _ move _ ,” Husk snapped. “... Did you scratch at it?”

Alastor was quiet. Husker glanced up at him and sighed. Alastor was still drunk. Drunk, or at least edging into hungover. Or just tired. Which meant he did definitely scratch at it because a sober or awake Alastor would have listened because he didn’t want Husker climbing all over him to stitch again. He shoved a bottle down Alastor’s throat to keep him quiet, and Husker finished his work. He pulled Alastor forward by the horns, examining the bandages around his back for any signs of well… Alastor tampering with it. Finding none, he let Alastor straighten up. Husk exhaled heavily through his nose.

Alastor looked very tired. Which was normal; Alastor healed at an accelerated pace. Doing that took tons of his energy, and being hungover probably made him want to chuck himself off a cliff. Husker raised his paw, trying to check Alastor’s forehead for a fever when Alastor jerked backwards with a scowl.

“Get your ass over here so I can make sure you don’t have some secret fucking infection I need to know about,” Husk snapped, pointing down in front of him.

“I assure you ‘m fine,” Alastor snapped right back with a snarl. “‘m fine with getting sep’sis at this point.”

“Stop being weird about being touched and maybe I wouldn’t have to get you plastered to do a basic exam.”

Alastor opened his mouth to retort when Husk reached forward again and he threw his entire body backwards to avoid it, a muffled groan escaping him when he fell flat on Husk’s bed. Husker raised an eyebrow and pulled the rest of the blanket and towel off Alastor’s torso to reveal a canvas of black, purple, yellow, and green bruising all amalgamated in one hideous panting. Husker wasn’t surprised, but was a little mad at himself for not checking to see if Alastor had busted any ribs in this entire process, which is definitely where those came from. A quick glance under the bruises showed that none had set or snapped horribly wrong, but…

“I have to rebreak your ribs,” Husker said flatly. Alastor paled at least 20 shades of grey, smile twitching when Husker cracked his knuckles. The Radio Demon reached into Husker’s other bedside table and pulled out the first bottle he found when Husker started cackling. Alastor glowered at him, immediately catching on. He aimed a kick at Husker’s head that the smaller demon easily caught, throwing it down. Alastor growled and opened his mouth when he looked at his leg and his pale face turned red.

“Where’re my clothes.” It wasn’t a question.

Husker laid back down. “Over there.” He gestured vaguely. He had no idea where he chucked them.

Alastor pulled the blanket up over most of him, glaring daggers into Husk. The other demon snatched the bottle of whatever Alastor had fished out and unscrewed the cap, taking a quick swig before recapping it and setting it aside. Husker rolled onto his side and raised an eyebrow at Alastor.

“Why are you so worked up? You kicked Vox’s ass. You got your ass beat  _ significantly  _ less than usual. It’s not because I touched you, because you were in outer space when Niffty and I did the most work on you.”

Alastor didn’t say anything, but Husker could hear the agitation in the background noise. Eventually, Alastor started moving like he was trying to stand by himself, and honestly, Husker didn’t really care, until Alastor almost fell.

Husker had lunged to grab the lanky jackass under the arms before he could eat significant shit, pulling him back on the bed without agitating wounds. Alastor growled something in French. Husker didn’t even care. Alastor was wearing him out with whatever game he was trying to play.

“Either spirit yourself to your room and be miserable by yourself or lay here,  _ quietly _ , and rest,” Husker snapped. “You lost a fuckton of blood. Good luck trying to get anywhere without crawling.”

_ “Va te faire foutre,”  _ Alastor hissed.

“If you’re going to tell me to go fuck myself in French, you’re basically asking me to do it in front of you.”

Husker smirked when Alastor’s face went red again, ear and eye twitching as radio screeching filled the air. Husker flopped down, grabbed the book he’d been working through, and opened to his last page. Alastor, not quite understanding anything that was going on, quietly laid himself down five feet away from Husk as the room went quiet.

Quiet for about five seconds.

“That’s in French.”

“Genius deduction, asshole!” Husker whistled. “I’ve been learning to insult you in your mother tongue.”

“...  _ Madame Bovary _ ?”

“Alastor, how much do I need to pay you to stop annoying me?”

“Why did you choose that compli’cated of a text-”

“ _ Because it’s one of your favorites now shut the fuck up so I can read because it takes me five times longer to get through a page than it would for you _ .”

Alastor was reading over his shoulder within the next three minutes. Occasionally, he tried to turn the page before Husk was ready, but quickly realized and let Husker finish muddling through. At one point, it was obvious where Husker was stumped and Alastor would supply a phrase or word or explain grammar, and Husker would mumble a thank you before continuing on.

“... Why’d you never learn French?”

Husk shrugged. “It was one of the easier ones so I always just assumed I’d learn it later.”

“Why is French ‘easy’?”

“It’s Latin rooted, so it has cognates to English. I know Spanish too, so it simplifies more. Basically, a lot of root words are the same, so you can figure it out easier than languages that aren’t Latin based.”

“... What?”

“English and Spanish are both Latin based languages. Italian is based on this thing called ‘Vulgar Latin’ or basic colloquial tongue, so Latin but not really. Russian is Cyrillic, so it’s Greek based. Mandarin Chinese roots back through Sinitic and Sino-Tibetan alphabet junk, and Japanese comes from Chinese on how it looks, but it’s really just Japonic.”

“I still struggle with French,” Alastor mumbled as Husker flipped a page.

“Use it or lose it,” Husker yawned. “You don’t practice enough with it.”

“How?”

“Writing and reading,” Husker suggested. “Speaking if you can find someone.”

“... That works?”

“Yeah, and it would help jog your memory of it. When I have a better grasp of it, we can practice together.”

Alastor seemed surprised at that. “I-i think that would be nice.”

“Your French is weird though. You have an accent on it.”

“I-i do  _ not have an accent- _ ”

“You have some kinda New Orleans accent.”

“Where-”

“Count.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Count to ten.”

“One, two, three, four, f _ i _ ve-”

“There.”

“What?”

“You pronounce i’s longer. Say nine.”

“N _ i _ ne.”

Husker just smirked. “Bingo.”

Alastor touched his lips, brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t think I ever realized I had one.”

“It’s buried under the show-voice you have. I can sometimes pick up on it when you get mad. Tends to slip a little more. Really pops up when you’re plastered.”

Alastor seemed confused by this entire revelation, muttering to himself. Husk resumed reading slowly, choosing to ignore the fact his head lolled over on Alastor’s undamaged shoulder and Alastor had yet to push him off. But when Alastor said one particular word, Husk couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Nawlins?”

Husker was cackling. He wasn’t making fun of Alastor,  _ he really wasn’t _ , but the fact this dumb fuck had been so accustomed to his radio-show voice that he actually forgot he possessed an accent was hilarious to him. Alastor gave him a mind boggled look, waiting for Husker to remove the novel off of his face before saying anything else. Eventually honey gold eyes peered out from behind the pages, tears in the corners of them. 

“Why z’it funny?”

Oh, Alastor was definitely drunk this was great.

“ _ Alastor _ ,” Husk wheezed, wiping tears away. “Say New Orleans.”

“Nawlins?”

Husker just shook his head. “It’s okay, Al, don’t worry about it.”   
  
Alastor looked genuinely frustrated. “It’s  _ Nawlins _ . I was born in  _ Nawlins _ .”

“Al, it’s  _ New _ .  _ Orleans _ . It’s two separate words.”

“New. Orleans.”

“Yes.”

“ _ Nawlins _ .”

Husker was wheezing again, trying his best not to be a dick to this clearly confused and disgruntled demon who could definitely rip him limb from limb, but when Alastor just looked so  _ earnestly confused  _ about why he wasn’t saying New Orleans right, Husk couldn’t help but lose his shit. He put down  _ Madame Bovary  _ and sat up straight, looking Al in the eye. Al meant his gaze evenly, though his brow was furrowed in concentration.

“New. Orleans.”

“Okay, now put them together,” Husk pressed his palms together. “New Orleans.”

“ _ Nawlins! _ ”

“NO!” Husk shoved his laughter down his throat. “Oh my fuck, Al, tell me how you would greet someone.”

“Where y’at?”

Husker doubled over laughing backwards, falling back in hysterics. Alastor was now talking to himself, trying to overcome the accent he didn’t know he had. Husk managed to sit back up, coughing and wiping more tears away before shushing Alastor.

“Okay, talk to me like you’re on the air.”

Alastor cleared his voice and a soft hum of noise rolled with it. “Goood morning, ladies and gentlemen! ‘Tis I, your host, Alastor- Well, it’s Alastor! Today’s weather is going to be hot and humid in New Orleans-”

“Now talk like you’re talking to your mom.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “Where y’at,  _ Maman _ ? I missed ya on the-”

“ALASTOR,” Husk cut him off. “It’s so strong, how… how just how. How do you forget you have an accent?”

Alastor didn’t even have an answer, because he had confused himself into oblivion. He held his face in his hands, mumbling to himself. His face was pink. Husker had never enjoyed Alastor’s presence more than in this very baffling moment. After a very long moment, Alastor looked up at Husker and looked utterly defeated. More defeated and somehow more annoyed than he had been earlier when Husker was holding him down trying to sew his skin back together.

“Husker, what if I forget how to talk?”

Husk was crying. “I don’t think you will, Al. You’re good buddy.”

Alastor pulled his blanket tighter, suddenly looking very scared. “I have an accent.”

“You have two, technically,” Husker was really trying not to laugh. “The radio accent that you usually talk with and the one you grew up using.”

Alastor nodded and slowly laid back down, leaving Husker to wonder in amazement of how  _ the actual fuck  _ Alastor’s mind actually worked. Husk knew Alastor had the New Orleans accent; it popped up  _ all the time _ , especially when Alastor got worked up or drunk. But Alastor didn’t even realize there was a switch?

Alastor’s breath deepening jerked him out of his thoughts. Oh, thank fuck he was asleep again. Husker found himself a little disappointed that he couldn’t fuck with him about it anymore, but he doubted Alastor would remember any of this when he woke up from the sheer amount of alcohol still working through his system. He resumed reading, occasionally feeling Alastor’s forehead for fever when a quiet knock at the door got his attention. Husker chucked one of Alastor’s discarded shoes as a response, the object falling to the floor when it creaked open.

Niffty scurried over, peeking over at the demon’s sleeping form. Husker muttered his thanks when she handed him a spare set of Alastor’s clothes.

“Is he still out?”

“He woke up around 7,” Husk yawned. “Still drunk. I got him drunker when I had to restitch him.”

“Okay,” Niffty nodded, crossing her elbows over the sheets. “But he’s okay?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah. Just keepin’ an eye on him in the meantime. … You ever heard his New Orleans accent before?”

“Oh yeah!” Niffty giggled. “When he gets mad it gets all drawly. He talks like someone glued all his words together.”

Husk gave a short, gruff laugh. “You can go clean if you want, Nift. I’ve got Al under control.”

“Okie doke,” she saluted. Niffty slid off the mattress when Alastor mumbled something and threw his arm over Husk’s hips, dragging himself closer to Husk’s side. She giggled and bounced away, giving Husk a mischievous look in her amber eye. Husk flicked her off and she shrugged, giving him a shark-like grin.

“You’re his  _ faaaavoriiiiite _ !” she sang. Husk would’ve thrown something else at her if she wasn’t Niffty, shaking his head as he watched her dart out the room, letting the door shut quietly behind her. Husk sighed.

He glanced down at Al. The blanket was tugged up to his nose, the only sign of him still being alive the steady rise and fall of his shoulders. Husker rolled his eyes with a smirk, scratching Al behind the ears. Al’s grip on him tightened, muttering in his sleep.

Drunk Al was probably Husk’s favorite Al.

But Drunk Al also said weirdass things in his sleep, like now.

“Husker…”

Husk raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Warm kitty…”

Husk suddenly wanted Al sobered up and off of him, but he just didn’t have the strength. So, he reopened his book, leaned back, and prepared himself to start pestering Alastor when he was sober about his other accent.

When one hand traveled down to play with Al’s hair, he didn’t even notice it. He didn’t notice Al smiled either.


End file.
